


Sing Choir of Angels

by nekosmuse_archive (nekosmuse)



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Holidays, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:00:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23534200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nekosmuse/pseuds/nekosmuse_archive
Summary: Written pre 2005. Posted for archival purposes.'Tis the season.
Relationships: Greg Sanders/Nick Stokes
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	Sing Choir of Angels

He wakes to the sound of the front door closing and it takes him a moment to realize the bed is empty.

Hollow, just like the rest of the house and Greg can't remember the last time he was this aware of the silence. It's everywhere: thick and oppressive, and Greg shivers as he throws back the covers, forcing himself out of the bed and onto the chilled floors.

December has been unusually cold this year.

So cold that he's surprised he can't see his breath and Greg makes a mental note to wear a coat tonight. The thought lingers only a moment and then he's crossing over to the window, pushing aside the curtains just in time to see the cab disappear around the corner. When he squints, he can just make out the back of Nick's head and Greg lets out a low, frustrated breath before letting the curtains fall shut.

Something like memory flickers across his consciousness: Nick's wordless goodbye, a kiss to his temple and the trail of fingers through his hair. Greg can't tell if the image is from a dream, or if he simply slept through Nick's leaving, but it doesn't stop him from closing his eyes and picturing the sadness on Nick's face as Nick shouldered his bags and headed for the door.

He tells himself, not for the first time, that it doesn't matter. That this is for the best and, besides, he has a feeling he'll be too preoccupied with work to notice Nick's absence. He wonders idly what will happen when he actually starts believing the excuse.

Thoughts of work distract him from the thought and Greg glances to the alarm clock resting on his bedside table. Six minutes past eleven flickers in angry red and Greg curses as he calculates just how little time he has last. Just under an hour and he doesn't bother putting on a robe before padding out of the room, down the hall and into the living room.

He pauses when he reaches the threshold between the living room and kitchen, letting his gaze wander, taking in everything that's missing, everything that's out of place. Despair wells in the pit of his stomach and Greg swallows against a sudden wave of loneliness before moving forward, ignoring the need to straighten the three remaining gifts under the tree as he heads into the kitchen to make coffee.

One belongs to Nick and Greg can't help but wonder why Nick left it. One is from his parents, shipped from California and Greg's half tempted to open it now. He knows what it is; miscellaneous clothes that he wouldn't be caught dead wearing and even though they mean well, they've never really understood his sense of fashion. He's used to it now, though, so it doesn't really bother him anymore and when the coffee maker beeps, Greg sighs and pours a cup before heading over to the couch to stare at what passes as festive decoration.

He'd wanted a real tree, crisp with the scent of pine, but Nick had said something about needles and mess and, eventually, Greg had caved. Picked up one of those small, table-sized, artificial ones and it still looks out of place. The star on the top is crooked, heavy on one side and Greg can't help but picture it toppling over, pulling the tree down, ornaments shattering on impact and leaving the floor covered in sparkling shards of glass.

He's tempted to just tip the tree over and save it the trouble, but by the time he stands, he knows he should be getting ready, so he ignores the urge, depositing his cup in the sink on his way into the bathroom.

A thousand scenarios race through his head, his entire body tense as he waits out Grissom. His hands are shaking again, the trembling barely noticeable but he knows the second Grissom spots them he'll comment on it. Greg forces himself to take deep, cleansing breaths before curling his hands around the arms of the chair.

He tells himself he hasn't done anything wrong, that there's no reason for Grissom to take him out of the field. The knowledge doesn't stop him from cringing as the door slides open, Grissom nose deep in the file he's carrying and, for a moment, Greg's almost positive Grissom's forgotten about their meeting. The thought becomes certain as Grissom slides into his chair, looking up and blinking as he takes in Greg's presence.

"You wanted to see me?" Greg asks, clearing his throat against a second wave of nervousness.

For a second, Grissom merely looks confused, like he's trying to place exactly why he wanted to see Greg. It doesn't last long, and then Grissom's nodding, sorting through several papers on his desk before finally glancing back up.

"I've been going over the schedule and, as you know, because you're a trainee now, you've lost seniority rights," Grissom begins, pausing and waiting for Greg's nod before continuing. "That means I'm going to have to deny your request for time off. All new CSIs are required to work over Christmas. I'm sorry."

He knows, later, he'll probably be disappointed, but at that moment, he's so relieved that Grissom's not taking him out of the field that all Greg can do is nod and mumble his understanding, telling Grissom that he doesn't mind. That he's more than willing to pay his dues.

The streets are always quiet this time of night. Even more so on Christmas Eve and Greg briefly considers taking a detour and driving down the strip. He likes Vegas over Christmas. It doesn't snow, but the city goes all out, decorating every available space until the light of it can be seen from every direction. No small feat considering how bright Vegas usually is.

He knows he doesn't have time, though, so instead he follows his usual route, taking in the sight of slumbering homes, all of them lit up like tiny Santa beacons and Greg can't help but feel just a little bit depressed that he'll be spending the next three days at work. It's not the first year he's had to work, but it's the first year in a really long time and he misses being able to go home for Christmas.

He checked the schedule, noting who was working, who wasn't. Most of the night shift is off, with the exception of Grissom, and that means he'll likely spend the entire night dealing with people from the day and swing shifts. It's not that he doesn't like them, they're nice enough, but one of the things he loves about his job is the people he works with and, for some reason, the thought of not seeing any of them makes the prospect of working over the holidays that much worse.

He tells himself it's just a few days, that it doesn't really matter in the end, but as he pulls into the parking lot, shutting off his car before stepping out into frosty air, he can't quite believe it.

"It's just a couple of days, Greg," Nick says, like he's trying to convince himself just as much as he is Greg and Greg still doesn't believe him.

Because they spent Christmas apart last year, Nick at his parents, Greg at his, and they both swore they'd spend this year together. Granted, the promise was made after a week apart, both of them exhausted from traveling and missing each other enough to not quite make it to the bedroom before they were fucking on the floor like the teenagers they weren't. Still, Greg remembers the way Nick whispered against his ear, the words 'never again' echoing in his memory, so he can't help but feel just a little bit disappointed.

"Besides, you're working, so it's not like I'd see you if I stayed here," Nick continues, running a frustrated hand through his hair and Greg suddenly feels guilty for arguing.

"I know. You're right, you should go home, see your family. Christmas is about family, after all," Greg replies, fighting to keep the bitterness out of his voice. He can't tell if he succeeds.

Nick doesn't say anything else, but he smiles, bright and happy like the matter is settled and Greg forces himself to smile back.

He doesn't know why he brought it in. He somehow managed to ignore his parents' gift, along with the one from him that Nick left under the tree. But moments before he was supposed to leave, he found himself grabbing the one to him from Nick, sliding it into his bag before rushing out the door.

He doesn't know what to do with it now. Technically, it's almost midnight, officially Christmas day, and he doesn't think Nick would mind if he opened it a little early. But there's something to be said for waiting, so Greg turns the gift over in his hand, carefully inspecting the packaging to make sure he hasn't damaged it before placing it in the back of his locker.

He stares at it for a moment before shaking his head, sliding out of his coat and hanging it on one of the hooks. The room's chilly, making him briefly consider leaving the coat on, but he tells himself he can always grab it later if he needs to. The sound of his locker swinging shut echoes through the room as he turns to leave.

They get home just after nine, the sun already well over the horizon and Greg can't help but wish they could just go without sleep. He knows that's not an option --he does have to work tomorrow, after all-- but that doesn't stop him from suggesting it.

Nick just laughs, pulling Greg onto the couch before reaching for his bag, setting it at his feet and when Greg glances down, Nick distracts him with a kiss.

"We've got some time, but I do have a red eye flight to catch tonight, and you have to go back to work, so we do need to get some sleep," Nick mumbles against Greg's lips, tasting like stale coffee and the pancakes they had for dinner.

"Yes, but aren't you supposed to sleep on red eye flights?" Greg asks, pulling back to make eye contact, hand tracing absent circles against Nick's chest.

He knows he probably sounds desperate, but he's beyond caring. In fourteen hours Nick will be heading for the airport, leaving for three days and Greg wants to relish every moment they have until then. Even if it means not sleeping, he doesn't intend on letting Nick leave until after they've made proper goodbyes.

"Not when you work the night shift," Nick replies, laughing as Greg silences his explanation with another kiss.

For a moment, Greg thinks that Nick might actually cave, but then Nick's pulling away, panting against Greg's neck and, before Greg can protest, Nick's shifting back, reaching for the bag by his feet, his eyes twinkling with something Greg doesn't recognize.

He doesn't have time to figure it out before Nick's placing a package in his hand, the bow slightly crooked and Greg can't help but smile at the thought of Nick wrapping it himself. He grins, tilting his head to the side to take in Nick's slight blush.

"You can open it now, or save it for Christmas morning. Your choice," Nick says, the corners of his lips tugging up into a sheepish grin.

"I think I might save it, if you don't mind," Greg replies, waiting for Nick's nod before placing it under the tree, right next to the one from his parents and the pile Nick plans on taking with him to Texas.

Besides, there are other things he wants to be doing right now.

He should have known it would be dead. At least, he should have expected it. He knows, technically, it's probably a good thing that it isn't busy, but he can't help but feel just a little bit disappointed. He's not asking for much, maybe just a robbery, a car accident, something; anything to keep the night from dragging and Greg sighs as he glances at the clock for the third time in as many minutes.

It's still early, the night still young and Greg registers that Nick is only just now boarding his plane. It seems like forever ago that Nick left, a lifetime even, and Greg can't help but wish things were different. Wish Nick was working, or that he'd gotten the time off. He knows he's being selfish, but as the second hand pushes forward into the next minute, Greg can't help but feel just a little bit envious of everyone spending Christmas Eve at home.

He pushes the thought aside as he heads into the break room to retrieve his first coffee of the night. The lab is almost as cold as it is outside, goosebumps forming on his arms and Greg absently rubs at them as he crosses over to the coffee machine. He can tell, just from the scent, that it's not the good stuff. He's too tired to make any from scratch, though, so he ignores the need and pours a cup of generic blend, adding extra sugar to mute the taste before heading back into the briefing room to wait out a case.

He can tell Nick's asleep just from his breathing. It's low and steady, even in this way that Greg almost finds hypnotic. He doesn't know how Nick manages to fall asleep almost on command. Greg's never quite mastered the trick. Most nights he spends close to an hour staring at the ceiling, going over the day, over and over again until eventually exhaustion takes over and he drifts off.

Part of him likes that he can't sleep, though, because he likes listening to Nick breathe. Likes watching Nick sleep, the way his chest rises and falls, the soft, content smile that plays across his lips. He even likes the way Nick snores. Softly, just loud enough to make out but never loud enough to wake Greg when he does eventually fall asleep. It's comforting, familiar in a way he doesn't like to question and the thought of spending three days without it makes Greg seriously contemplate breaking out a tape recorder.

He doesn't, instead curling a little closer to Nick's warmth, shifting until he's pressed against Nick's side, breathing in the scent of Nick and sweat and lingering sex.

This wasn't what he meant.

He wanted something to do, but no sooner did he show up in the briefing room than Grissom shuffled him off to the lab, asking him to run samples in a job that's no longer his and Greg could scream.

It's not that he doesn't like processing samples, or even working in the lab, but everyone else is on their way to the first case of the night and he didn't sign up to work over Christmas and take a pay cut just to end up back in the DNA lab. He knows, technically, it's just because everyone else is off, spending time with family and friends, which pretty much just leaves him and under any other circumstance, Grissom would have let him out into the field.

He shakes the thought off, turning back to the microscope in front of him. He has to squint against the low light, wondering idly if one of the overhead bulbs is out. He doesn't have time to check before Jacqui's rushing in, looking very much like a little kid and Greg finds himself laughing before he can stop himself.

"You look way too happy for someone stuck working Christmas Eve," he comments, earning an eye roll and a smile.

"You're never going to believe this," Jacqui begins, eyes wide and Greg resigns himself to playing her game.

"Those prints you were running belong to good old Saint Nick?" Greg asks, laughing in spite of himself when Jacqui shakes her head. "No, wait, Grissom's wearing a red hat?" he tries again and this time Jacqui actually chuckles.

He has to admit, the image is pretty ridiculous. Anyone else he could see, but Grissom, there's just no possible way.

"Okay, I give up, spill," Greg finally says, leaning a hip against the counter as he waits out Jacqui's explanation.

"It's snowing," she finally replies with a grin, waiting a beat before dashing out of the lab, down the hall to share the news with anyone lucky enough to cross her path.

Greg's still speechless by the time she disappears around the corner.

Greg's still fighting with a turkey when he senses Nick's presence. Feels it, anyway; Nick's fingers stroking through his hair, Nick's voice low near his ear. He can't quite make out what it is Nick's saying, but it sounds suspiciously like Mary Chrisbus, and Greg's pretty sure Nick's speaking in tongues.

Then Nick's fingers are moving away, taking their heat and warmth and Greg's pretty sure he whimpers. He feels the press of Nick's lips against his temple and then Nick's leaving, disappearing into a corridor of light and that damn turkey is looking at him again. Greg picks up a sling shot and starts hunting. Somewhere in the distance someone is honking and Greg can't help but wonder who invited a duck to the party.

It's early when Grissom sends him home, the sky still dark and Greg pauses as he steps outside. The ground is covered in a thin layer of snow, light from the street lamps reflecting off it in shades of pink and yellow. There's snow still falling from the sky, too, drifting down to cover the world in white and Greg finds himself grinning.

He shuffles through it as he walks to his car, pausing to trace a finger through the slight accumulation on his hood before unlocking the door, setting Nick's gift on the seat before circling around the car, wiping off windows with the sleeve of his coat. He's been in Vegas five, almost six years, and this is the first time he's ever seen it snow. He knows it happens occasionally, more often up into the mountains, but the sight is still strange enough to take his breath away.

He takes a moment to breathe deep before climbing into his car, setting Nick's present on his lap before throwing the car in reverse and heading out onto snow covered streets. Driving is tricky, his car not made for slippery roads and it ends up taking him twice as long as it normally would just to get to the outskirts of the city. Not for the first time he wishes Nick hadn't bought a house out in Vegas' sprawling suburbs.

By the time he does pull into the driveway, the sun is just cresting the horizon, reflecting off the snow until it sparkles like thousands of tiny diamonds. Greg pushes aside the sudden urge to build snowmen as he climbs out of the car, nearly slipping twice on his way to the door.

His hands are shaking as he fumbles with his key, part from exhaustion and part from the cold. It's not until he makes it inside, kicking off his shoes, that he realizes he's not alone. For a moment, he's so stunned all he can do is stand there staring, mouth opening and closing as he tries to process the fact that Nick's leaning against the far wall, smiling almost accusingly.

"Um... I..."

"Did you do this?" Nick asks, tilting his head before pushing off the wall, closing the distance between them.

"Do what?" Greg asks, reaching out to run his hands up and down Nick's chest, across his shoulders and down his arms.

"Call for snow? My flight got canceled," Nick explains, smirking something close to amusement and Greg can't help but laugh.

"Maybe," he replies, mysteriously, earning an even wider grin and Greg doesn't give Nick a chance to reply before surging forward, fusing their lips together and kissing Nick like they didn't just see each other not twelve hours ago.

Nick's still laughing, stumbling backward as Greg pushes them toward the couch, letting himself fall onto the soft cushions before pulling Nick down until he's settled between Greg's legs.

"Greg..."

"Nnn..." Greg manages, still kissing, hands roaming restlessly across Nick's back, pulling at his shirt and when Nick pulls back, Greg whimpers and arches forward to bury his face in Nick's neck.

"Greg?"

"This better be good," Greg replies, the words muffled as he licks a stripe along Nick's neck, mouth opening to suck at the hollow of Nick's throat.

"Merry Christmas," Nick says, his laugh turning to a moan as Greg bites down, pulling flesh with teeth, hard enough to leave marks.

~*~

"You haven't opened your present yet," Nick says, shifting until they're sprawled side by side, pressed together on the couch and Greg briefly considers suggesting they move into the bedroom.

He doesn't, the thought of moving unappealing, and when Nick shifts a second time, bringing their hips flush, Greg wonders just how hard it would be to convince Nick to carry him into the bedroom.

"I opened you," Greg replies, and even though his eyes are closed, he knows Nick's rolling his eyes at the bad joke.

Besides, technically, it's not Christmas until after they've slept and Greg's already gotten everything he could ever possibly want.


End file.
